


Pies and Mischief

by morna



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Rated T for language, pure and utter sugary fluff, tasertricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-18 01:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13089936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morna/pseuds/morna
Summary: After Darcy volunteers to cook Christmas dinner for the entire Avengers team, she finds herself in over her head and having to recruit the help of a particularly prickly demigod.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for the MCU/Tasertricks fandom. I suddenly found my love for the ship reawakened after watching Thor: Ragnarok. Anyways, I hope y'all like and leave a comment to let me know what you thought!

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Pepper asked for the third time in a row, tilting her head skeptically to the side. “It’s not a problem to find someone else. Tony and I do it every year.” 

“Nah, I totally got this,” Darcy said nonchalantly, making a careless gesture with her hands. “I do this all the time.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow but only said, “Alright, I’ll tell Francois we won’t be needing his services this year for Christmas. Let me know if you need any help.”

“Will do, Boss-lady,” Darch replied enthusiastically as she returned her attention back to her laptop. 

Pepper slipped off the barstool and clacked out of the room in five inch heels. Darcy watched enviously as the tall blond glided across the room without turning an ankle once. When the door shut, the brunette gave a sigh of relief. 

“How to cook a Christmas meal,” she said aloud as she typed it into Google. She did a quick scan of the results and felt sick at the results. Apparently, there was no truly quick way to cook a holiday meal for roughly fifteen people give or take a couple of superheroes.

She took a large gulp of her mocha frappuccino to brace herself. If she could cram for a cumulative art history final exam in one night and still get a “B” then whipping up a delicious (and hopefully, nonlethal) Christmas dinner should be a snap. Right? 

***

Darcy had been wrong many times in her life. She had been wrong about Justin Timberlake one day rejoining Nsync. She had been wrong about only needing a bachelor’s in political science in order to get a job that would keep her above the poverty line, and she had been wrong about that one guy in organic chem being a good lay. Still out of all those fuck-ups and many more, she did not think she had ever been this epically off-base before. 

“Who the fuck knew this would be so hard?” she muttered to herself as she flipped through the recipe book. The abbreviations for teaspoon and tablespoon were frighteningly similar she had discovered. She had also learned that cooking skills were not hereditary, and she had in fact none of Memaw’s talent. It seemed having a grandmother from Georgia did not make her a Southern cook. 

She chewed her bottom lip as she tried to figure out exactly what ingredient she was missing. “I got the nutmeg and cinnamon. The sugar, maybe? Fuck, who knows-” she cut herself mid-sen`` tence as the smell of something burning filled her nose. “Oh, shitballs!” she cursed as she ran over to the oven and pulled the door open. Without thinking, she reached in to grab the pie and promptly regretted it. Cursing and shaking her hands, she pulled on the oven mitts and took what was supposed to have been a pecan pie out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. 

Darcy coughed and turned the oven-fan on max to suck away the black clouds of smoke rising from the ruin that had been her pie. She stared at the blackened mess in despair and gave a hopeless sigh. Resting her head in her hands, Darcy slumped against the counter and fought back tears. 

She had just wanted to be good at something. She had just wanted to show you could do this one thing right. Darcy knew she didn’t fit in with the rest of the Avengers team. She had no super powers or skills. She wasn’t a genius scientist or business mogul. Her talents consisted of being able to name all one hundred and fifty of the original Pokemon, making awesome playlists, and snark. Not particularly handy or impressive when you knew someone who could turn into a giant green rage monster or summon storms. 

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself as she considered calling Pepper. It would be too late now. It was eight o’clock on Christmas Eve, and lunch would start at noon tomorrow. It would be impossible to book the Francois guy. 

Darcy was startled out of her reverie when she heard the kitchen door open and froze mid-sniff. There shouldn’t be anyone left in the Tower or at least not near the kitchen she had commandeered. 

“What is that horrible smell?” an arrogant voice said from around the corner.

Oh, no, not him. Anyone but him, she thought as her stomach twisted itself into a pretzel. Loki came into view, and Darcy feared she might puke right then and there all over his patent black shoes and hand-tailored black suit. Who even wore that this late in the evening with nowhere to go? 

His green eyes landed on the aborted pie effort and understanding came into them. “That’s the source of that awful odor?” 

She nodded dumbly, wondering whether it would be smarter to flee or snark her way through it. Loki had supposedly turned over a new-leaf, saving the Asgardians and all that, but he was still not trusted by the majority of the Avengers. She had seen him only briefly in passing, but had heard enough horror stories to know she wanted to stay out of his way as much as possible. She still had nightmares sometimes about that giant death machine he had sent to Peunte Antiguo. 

“What is it supposed to be?” he said mockingly and poked the still smoking top. It crumbled into a pile of ash beneath the light touch. 

“A pie,” she answered.

He arched a brow at her. “I think it might be a little overdone,” he drawled and turned in a slow circle to survey the wreck she had made of the kitchen. 

“Oh, really?” she spat. “Thanks for the observation Captain Obvious. I never would have guessed.” Snark it was then. 

The god only gave her an amused look, seemingly unaffected by her scathing sarcasm. It seemed even her snark wasn’t up to par lately. Just wonderful. 

“You must be Miss Lewis,” he stated and dusted sugar off the counter before leaning back against it, arms crossed casually over his chest.

“In the flesh,” she replied and gave a deep bow at the waist, all fear and despair evaporated in presence of the God of Annoyance himself.

“You’re the one responsible for preparing tomorrow’s feast, correct?” He gave her a quick once over from the bottom of her ratty Scooby Doo pajama bottoms to the messy bun perched atop her head. His brows tilted up slightly for emphasis.

“Listen, dude, I don’t know if you’re a member of SHIELD now or not, but I am not going to be interrogated by some greasy haired demigod who looks like he fronts an 80s Goth band.” Darcy gave him her best Natasha Romanoff. 

His smirk widened, curling one end of his mouth. “I’ll admit, Miss Lewis, I did not quite understand half of what you said, but I have a feeling it was not complimentary.”

Darcy snorted, shook her head, and started to lean one hand against the handle of the oven. “You know-” she started and stopped in a hiss as her palm contacted the metal. She withdrew it and glared at the red, swollen skin there. She could see a blister starting to form. 

“What’s that?” Loki asked, using his superior height to lean over and examine her burned hands.

“Nothing,” she said sullenly and winced as she attempted to hide her hands in her armpits.

“It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like you’re injured.”

She sighed and let her hands drop to her side. Staring down at the floor, she scuffed away a spot of flour with one bare toe. “I just burned myself a little.”

“Let me see,” he commanded in a voice that brooked no argument, a voice that said he was used to being obeyed without question like she was one of his servants back in his fancy-ass palace.

“No,” Darcy said reflexively, defiance straightening her spine and lifting her chin. 

Loki scoffed. “Just let me see. I can help you. I know some healing magic.” He started to reach for her but stopped when she backed away.

“No,” she repeated, setting her jaw. “I’m not some little Asgardian serving maid you can just grab whenever you want.”

“I was not trying to grab you,” he sneered, “I was trying to help you, you stubborn mule of a mortal! But,” he raised his hands in defeat and took a step back, “if you think you can handle it on your own be my guest. Everything seems to be working out just fine so far.” He spun on his heel and headed for the door.

“You’re probably a shitty wizard anyways!” Darcy yelled at his retreating back, resisting the urge to stamp her foot. 

Loki stopped dead in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at her.

Great job, Lewis, Mom always warned you your big mouth would get you killed. She probably never thought it would be by a god though. Darcy looked around desperately for a weapon as he leveled a gaze capable of killing at her. Her hands ached for her taser. If it could take down a big guy like Thor surely it could handle Loki’s more slender frame. 

He turned sharply on his heel and stalked over to her, using nearly the foot he had on her in height to good measure. Darcy backed up quickly, feet slipping on the cold tile, until she was pinned to the wall. 

“Try it,” she threatened as she grabbed a fork lying on the countertop and held it between them. She ignored the sudden flare of pain radiating from both hands as she locked the utensil in a death-grip. “I’ll skewer you.” 

Quick as a flash, he ripped the fork from her grasp and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the floor with a mournful clang that made her stomach sink. He caught hold of her wrist in one hand and dragged the fingers of his free hand across her burned palm while muttering some words in a language she had never heard. Darcy gasped as coolness spread from his fingertips and wrapped around her whole hand. There was a brief glow and then a tingling before he released her. 

She held her hand up in front of her face and flexed her fingers. The redness and swelling were gone, replaced by healthy pink tissue. “You did it,” she said in disbelief and held out her damaged hand.

Loki took a step back and gave her an incredulous look. “You expect me to heal your other hand, now? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Darcy gave a shrug, her fear once again forgotten, and said, “I just want to see if you can do it twice in a row. First time is always beginners luck.” 

He narrowed his eyes dangerously at her until they were only green slits and snatched her burned hand. Again, he repeated the same gestures and mumbled the same mumbo-jumbo. Moments later she had a set a of newly healed hands, and a supremely smug God of Mischief facing her. 

“Well,” he said expectantly.

“Well, what?” she asked and squeezed around him to stand at the counter.

“I believe you owe me a thank you and an apology,” the Asgardian said. 

“Thanks,” she said as she flipped through the cookbook. Since pecan pie was out of the running, maybe an apple pie might work? “And I guess you’re not such a shitty wizard after all. You might even be mediocre.” 

Darcy covered a smile with her hand as she heard Loki make a strangled sound behind her. 

“Are you always so insufferable?” he said acidly.

“Only on my best days,” she shot back and stopped on a particularly interesting recipe. She had never heard of putting pickles in an apple pie. It might be worth a shot.

“Then today, you must be in peak form. Such a rare talent to be both a master chef and a source of endless wit,” he snipped and once more came up behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body against her back as he stared down at the recipe she had paused on. “You can’t be serious?”

Darcy did her best not to tense up and flinch away from his sudden presence. She knew he wouldn’t harm her, but still . . . Her hormones were reacting a little crazy. It had been too long since she’d received any attention from a hot guy, and whether, she liked to admit it or not her libido definitely liked Loki if no other part of her did. “And I suppose you’re an expert at cooking as well as being a mediocre version of Harry Potter?” she said as she twisted her neck to look up him. Goddamn, he did have some nice cheekbones and cut a smart figure in a suit. 

“I have no idea what inane reference you are making now, but I assure you I can cook better than you.”

“Really?” she said as casually as she could manage. “Why should I believe a god of lies? And how the hell do you not know about Harry Potter yet?”

Loki “hmmphed” and stepped back. Darcy was both grateful for the clearing of her head and yet somehow missed the warmth of him. “I know what you’re trying to get me to do,” he hissed.

Darcy did her best to go wide-eyed and innocent as she had seen Jane do when she was caught conducting some experiment she knew she didn’t have clearance for. Unfortunately for Darcy, she couldn’t quite pull off the doe-eyed innocent act. “Ugh,” she said in disgust at Loki’s unimpressed face, “fine, I want you to help me.”

“Say please,” he whispered viciously, making no effort to hide the satisfaction he was getting from this. 

Her mouth screwed up like she had tasted something sour. For a long moment, she said nothing as she contemplated how bad it would look is she just served frozen pizza tomorrow. Tony would more than likely find it hilarious. Pepper might have her skinned alive. “Please,” she said, and then repeated it again more dramatically, “please oh great shitty wizard. Help an inept mortal. Teach me the ways of the kitchen.” For emphasis, she leaned against him and clutched at the lapels of his jacket, leaving a long white smear of flour behind. 

“Fine,,” he said irritably as he pushed her away and wiped at the stain on his jacket. “I’ll do it just to get you to stop touching me.” 

“Whatever works,” Darcy said triumphantly as she beamed at him. 

***

It was eleven o’clock, and Loki was still cursing himself mentally for allowing that damn Midgardian to rope him into this lost cause. He regretted ever entering the kitchen. He should have just let it be, but his damn curiosity had to get the better of him once again. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone. Who cared if the whole building burned down? Certainly not him.

They had been at it for over two hours now with him doing most of the work. Darcy claimed to be “supervising”, but that mostly consisted of her attempting to do something and Loki trying to fix what she had ruined. Magic would have made it all infinitely easier, but his mother had always insisted that cooking was its own form of magic. It was certainly the earliest form he had learned at her feet, using a mortar and pestle to mix herbs together and later over a stew pot to make potions. Besides that, he had spent no little amount of time in the kitchens of Asgard chopping and peeling as punishment for some trouble he and Thor had gotten into. 

Loki was working on chopping the carrots on the cutting board, moving the knife quickly and efficiently. He spotted the Midgardian out of the corner of his eye attempting to dice an onion, her movements painfully slow and clumsy.

“How have you managed to feed yourself?” he asked in exasperation as she nearly took off a finger. 

“Ow,” she said and put her finger into her mouth to suck the drop of blood from her fingertip. His eyes must have lingered too long for her mouth widened into a knowing smile. This night was never going to end. “I mostly just eat cheap take-out and microwave.” 

He grimaced at her and snatched the knife to put it out of her reach. “I would hardly call that food,” he quipped as he dispatched of the onion while Darcy looked around for a bandaid.

“Well excuse me, Princess. We didn’t all grow up with servants catering to our every whim and need.” She settled for a paper towel instead. 

Loki shook his head in disgust. He could heal her hand, but why should he? He had already helped her too much as it was. “I have prepared a good number of meals for myself over the years. There are no servants out in the field when you’re in the middle of a war campaign.” There actually had been, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. He wanted to maintain the high road as long as possible.

“Hand me the olive oil,” he commanded and flicked his fingers for it. She pressed it into his hand, and he doused the vegetables in it before adding thyme, oregano, and rosemary.

She watched him in interest as if he were changing water into wine. Wasn’t that what their Christ had done? He could never keep up with the religions on Midgard. They were all so similar. 

They lapsed into silence after that as Loki set about his work, finding his focus as he often did when performing a complex spell. Chopping and slicing and simmering were all a form of meditation to him. He slammed pots and pans into the sinks and onto the stove. It made an awful racket, but he personally cared little if the Tower’s other occupants lost some sleep. It wouldn’t be the first time he had been the cause of it.

It was nearly one o’clock when he glanced up next and realized with dawning horror that Darcy was again attempting to make something. She was facing away from him at the counter opposite him. She held her elbows akimbo and her head craned down. 

He walked from his station at the cutting board to where she stood, moving as soundlessly as possible. He hovered over her right shoulder, watching as she mashed and pressed the dough. 

“I hear they have punching bags in the gym upstairs if you are looking for something to beat into submission.” 

She gave a squeak and jumped at his words. “God, can you stop being creepy for half a second?! You almost gave me a frickin’ heart attack.” Her hands went still on the dough, which lay in a lumpy sticky mess. 

“What are you attempting to make?” he said, ignoring her outburst entirely. Over the past few hours, he had become accustomed to her hysterics. She was entirely too excitable for her own good. Loki seriously wondered how she had survived living in close proximity to Thor. Perhaps, she truly was mildly insane as he had suspected. 

“A crust for the pie,” she said sheepishly. A blush creeping up her cheeks. 

Damn the Norns to the darkest pits of Hel. As much as he was loathe to admit it, he did find her attractive in spite of her disheveled and ill-kempt state. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright despite the lateness of the hour. Two tendrils of dark hair had come loose from her bird’s nest of a bun to frame her oval face, and there was a smear of flour by the left corner of her mouth. It took everything in him not to wet his thumb and wipe it away for her. 

He cleared his throat to gain himself some time and gather his thoughts. “That again? I thought you had learned your lesson the first time.”

She shrugged carelessly, and the loose t-shirt she wore slipped off of her right shoulder. His eyes flicked to the exposed skin but quickly returned to her face. There would be no second slip up. She wouldn’t get the best of him. He couldn’t be sure the shirt slip wasn’t intentional, but he certainly wouldn’t rule it out. 

“If you insist on pursuing this foolish course of action at least let me show you how to properly knead the dough.” He stepped behind her and bracketed her arms with his longer ones, easily reaching around her to sprinkle some flour onto the board and his hands. 

Once more, he felt her whole body go tense against him. He could feel her holding her breath and saw a red tide creeping up from her neck to her hairline. Good, he thought as he rubbed a thin layer of flour along her palms. Then, he molded his hands around hers to demonstrate. He curled their fingers and pulled the dough in towards her body. Her fingers were long and smooth against his. “You have to fold the dough in on itself,” he explained against the shell of her ear, careful to keep his voice low and let his breath ghost across the back of her neck. 

“Uh huh,” she murmured as she allowed him to manipulate her arms and hands like a puppeteer. 

It took every bit of self control he possessed, but he did not let the wicked enjoyment he felt at the moment creep into his voice. “Now push it back out.” He pressed the heels of her hands out with his own as they kneaded the dough with their combined weight. He could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. He had removed the jacket sometime ago and rolled up his sleeves. Nothing but two layers of fabric keeping them from being skin to skin. 

“Now, a quarter fold,” he instructed softly as they took up the left corner and pushed it in towards the center of the lump. Their fingers laced and intertwined briefly as his fingers locked with hers. His cheek brushing hers as he leaned forward. 

He could smell the sugar and flour clinging to her skin and hair, fresh and clean and sweet. Her breath hitched in her throat as they repeated the gesture on the opposite side, and pressed forward once more. 

“Push and pull,” he told her gently, feeling her pulse beat against his skin, her heart hammering through her own body and his. 

Soon, they were moving as one without his prompting or instruction. Her hands followed instinctively where his led. His larger hands enveloped her smaller ones, and he could feel the long fine bones gliding underneath the skin and muscle. The rhythm had been found and soon it seemed as if their breathing and heartbeat had synced together as well. Darcy’s lids were heavy, and her pupils were dilated. Her lips slightly parted and that one smear of flour was still hanging at the left corner of her mouth. He wondered how she would feel if he removed it with his lips. 

He did not know how long they had been like that when the kitchen timer went off and broke the spell. She jerked against him and untangled her fingers from him. The dough was now a perfectly smooth ball. Loki kept his hands on the counter, forcing her to turn around in his arms. 

She barely came up to his shoulder and had to tilt her head back to see him this close up. “The thing-the timer. We should-um-check something,” she said breathlessly, tongue flicking out to wet her lips as she attempted to gather her thoughts. 

“We probably should,” he said lazily. He brought his face just a fraction of an inch forward. 

Her eyes darted between his eyes and his lips. He could see the indecision warring in her. Loki himself was uncertain whether he wanted her to close the distance between them or not. It had been a long time since he had been this attracted to someone and never to a Midgardian. Some part of himself in the back of his mind, all wounded pride and sullen anger, knew she was beneath him as they all were. But the remaining part could only wonder if her mouth would taste as sweet as he suspected and how her skin might feel against his. 

The timer gave another annoying chirp, and he saw the decision made in her face. She gave a nervous laugh and ducked underneath his arm. 

“We should check the turkey,” she said hastily as she opened up the top oven. “And we need to get the pie filling ready. Do you think apple or sweet potato?” 

“Whatever you are least likely to burn,” he shot back and stalked over to examine the bird. The skin was crisping nicely, but it did nothing to ease the frustration building in him. 

“Probably apple then,” she said thoughtfully and put distance between. 

He stopped the groan wanting to escape from his throat and forced himself to go over to the cookbook. “Fine,” he said, “but absolutely not the one with the pickles. Even the mere thought should be a jailable offense.” 

“Okay, okay, Princess,” she teased and settled for a Dutch apple pie. 

“I’ll get started on chopping up the apples. You put the dough into the pie dish,” he said and gestured behind himself to the dough that had only minutes ago been the center of both their attention. He found himself missing the feel of her hands in his. He shook his head to clear away the cobwebs. She had made herself perfectly clear. Besides, it was probably for the best that they had not pursued that avenue further. 

“Are you sure you want to?” she asked as he washed the fourth apple off in the sink.

“Want to what?” he inquired, irritation creeping into his voice. 

“Continue with the pie. It’s almost two in the morning.”

He sighed as he dried off the piece of fruit and set it in the bowl with the others. “I will be fine, Miss Lewis. I have less need of sleep than mortals.” 

“Darcy,” she corrected him. 

He looked over his shoulder at her and found her standing behind him, shifting from foot to foot nervously. “Call me Darcy please,” she added.

Loki turned around slowly and rested against the sink. He gave a curt nod. “Darcy then.”

“Thanks for helping me,” she rambled nervously, her fingers twisting into the fabric of her shirt. 

Her tone puzzled him. He had no idea why she should feel frightened of him now. If he had wanted to hurt her he would have by now. Not that he hadn’t been tempted to strangle her several times during the course of the night, but he had not acted on the impulse. “You’re welcome. I did not have much of a choice though. I had no wish to eat Chinese take-out or ashes tomorrow.” 

She gave him a crooked smile and dipped her head nervously. Another thick strand of hair fell loose and partially covered her face. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and his heart gave a stutter. 

Then, she had crossed the space between them and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck to drag his head down to her face. Her lips, warm and dry, pressed briefly against his before she withdrew and dashed back across the kitchen before he could react. 

Loki blinked slowly several times before he straightened and stared at her back. Darcy busied herself trying to force the dough into the pie tin, humming loudly and obnoxiously to herself. He frowned in confusion. Nothing was making any sense. First, she denied him, and then she threw herself at him. 

“And they say I’m crazy,” he muttered to himself as he set about slicing the apples. He could still feel the impression of her mouth on his and wanted more. Already, he was thinking of a way to achieve his goal. He had heard of a plant the Midgardians used this time of the year to elicit physical affection. It was supposed to have some sort of love potion properties from what he had gathered. Mistletoe? That sounded right. He would inquire about it tomorrow during lunch. Thor might know since he seemed so enamoured with Midgardian customs. She had won this round, but Loki would not let that stand for long.


	2. Mischief and Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas has arrived and now Darcy must navigate dinner while Loki plots to steal a kiss using the mysterious plant known as mistletoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know this was meant to be a one-shot, but I couldn't help myself. I couldn't just leave Darcy and Loki hanging like that. There will be one more chapter after this. Merry Christmas and show me some holiday love with some comments!

Darcy stood in the main dining room of the Avengers Tower and surveyed the feast laid out before her. It looked like something out of the Southern Living magazines her mother used to read.She felt pride swell in her chest at the site of the perfectly golden-brown turkey and pies. It was then promptly deflated like a balloon at a five year old’s birthday upon the entrance of her one-time ally and constant irritant, Loki. 

He walked in with Thor, all haughty pride and chilly arrogance as if he could not believe he had stooped so low to attend a mortal celebration. Thor said something to him that she couldn’t hear, and his mouth turned down and he spat out what she assumed was a sassy comment. Thor rolled his remaining eye and proceeded down the buffet line. 

She tried to keep her gaze from following him down the table, but it was hard when he cut a figure sharp as a blade in that black suit. Did he wear the same one everyday or did he have multiples of the same outfit like a cartoon character? She wouldn’t put either past him given his past as a supervillain. 

Darcy jumped when she felt a light hand land on her shoulder. “Phew,” she sighed when she looked up and saw Pepper’s face beaming down at her. “Hey, Pep, how’s it hanging?”

“Great!” she enthused. “Everything turned out so wonderfully. I admit I was a little worried when you volunteered, but you proved me wrong. I never realized you were such a good cook.” Her fingers flexed affectionately around Darcy’s shoulder.

The brunette gave a nervous laugh and ducked her head to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. “Oh, this? It’s nothing. I do this all the time when I visit my mom’s family in Savannah.” 

“Really?” Pepper said appreciatively, no hint of suspicion in her voice. “I’ll have to get you to do this more often than.” 

Shut the fuck up already, Darce, she cursed to herself. “No-no problem, Pep. Anytime.” 

The older woman nodded, hugged Darcy, and then moved into the line herself, making a beeline for the dessert table. How she consumed so much sugar and stayed so thin was beyond Darcy. Maybe wrangling Tony burned a lot of calories. 

Darcy was the last in line as the official cook and heaped her plate as high as she wanted with all of the dishes. She hadn’t exactly worked hard for it, but she had only gotten three hours of sleep so that seemed like a fair trade. 

She was happily humming “The Night Santa Went Crazy” when she reached the end and turned to take her seat. The song died on her lips as she looked over the dining table and saw the seating arrangement. Tony and Pepper sat at the head with Happy to their right and Dr. Banner on their left. Rhodey sat next to Happy with Sam right beside him. Next to Bruce sat Natasha, curiously close to him. Darcy certainly hadn’t seen that coming. Steve sat beside Natasha wearing the most hideous Bill Cosby Christmas sweater Darcy had ever seen. Then came Thor, grinning so stupidly happy, Darcy felt her own lips pull into a reluctant smile. He was already digging in heartily, regaling Steve and Sam with his latest Adventures in Space. That was where trouble with a capital T came in. A year ago, Jane would have been sitting there, but she was seated on the opposite side of the table towards the end with Erik. She and Thor were still awkward around each other after the break-up. 

Loki sat beside Thor with the only empty seat left. Darcy gripped her plate in indecision. Unfortunately, there was no kids’ table to retreat to so that left the kitchen and her room. Maybe she could sneak away before anyone noticed. She was scoping out her escape route when he spoke up. 

“Miss Lewis,” he said so politely it was mocking, “come join us and enjoy all the hard work you’ve put into this wonderful meal.” He had the audacity to pat the seat beside him with one elegant hand and a sickeningly sweet smile. 

“Thanks, Lokster,” she said with a grin so tight she felt like her face might burst at the seams. 

“Yes, Darcy, please sit here,” Thor added between bites. “The food is most delicious.” 

Loki quirked an eyebrow at her in challenge. She met him with the smile still plastered on and marched her way to the seat, resisting the urge to give Jane a pleading glance. She knew there would be no rescue coming from that corner of the table. She could hear Erik and her former boss engaged in a heated debate over the specific properties of wormholes and gates to parallel dimensions. 

Darcy approached the seat with plate in one hand and a knife in the other. Loki stood in one smooth movement and pulled the chair out for her, giving a bow at the waist. “You shouldn’t have,” she said deadpan as she sat. 

“My pleasure,” he purred into her ear so low only she could hear him. The words send a shiver down her spine straight to her crotch. 

She tried and failed to come up with some witty come-back that might belie the fact that her knees were pure jello. It was at that time that Tony began to clink a champagne glass with a fork and stood. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, aliens, and Reindeer Games,” he shouted over the noise, “lend me your various hearing apparatuses. We are gathered here today to eat some really good grub that Miss Darcy Lewis was so good to prepare for our ungrateful asses. Applause for the chef.” He gestured towards her, and Darcy began her slow sink further down into the seat as clapping erupted around her. 

Loki gave her a knowing smirk and leaned over to say, “Why are shrinking away? I know I would want my accomplishments acknowledged if I had slaved away all night in a kitchen.” 

“This is our first and hopefully only Christmas together,” Tony continued as the clapping died down. “So uh enjoy the food and try not to destroy my tower.” He sat down abruptly beside Pepper who was holding her face in her hands. “What’d I say?” 

With the speech over, Darcy straightened in her seat. “Feel free to tell them,” she said softly as she cut into the turkey with knife and fork. She definitely wasn’t imagining it was Loki she was stabbing. Not at all. “Let them all know what a good little homemaker you are. Maybe Tony will buy you an apron and maid costume.” 

The smirk broadened. “Would you like to see me in something like that? I won’t judge.” 

Darcy choked on the turkey, coughing violently at the thought of him traipsing around in a black ruffled skirt. 

“Is everything alright?” Thor asked in concern as he reached around his brother to slap her heavily on the back. 

“Everything is fine, Brother,” Loki replied as the force of the hit drove her ribcage into the table. “Miss Lewis simply ate too quickly. Have some water.” He handed her the glass, which she took and gulped down. 

“Yep, just great,” she wheezed between sips. “I’m good. Thanks, big guy.” 

The god of thunder’s eye flicked between her and Loki a few times before he said, “I’m glad to hear that.” He turned back to his conversation with Steve and Sam reluctantly.

Darcy wiped away the tears from her eyes and turned a glare on the trickster. Loki innocently avoided her gaze and set about eating with remarkable concentration. She considered saying something snide in return, but decided against it. Best not to engage the enemy now, Lewis, she told herself as she turned her focus towards eating as slowly and carefully. That did not stop her though from leaning over into his view as much as possible. Darcy had purposefully picked out her outfit for today since she knew a war was brewing after last night’s cooking extravaganza. It was a dark green v-neck dress that dipped dangerously low in the front and made the most of her assets. Darcy might not have super powers or an amazing skill set, but she did have a great rack and was not afraid to use it. 

Her strategy seemed to be working because Loki’s eyes were in a constant state of flicking between his plate and her cleavage. 

“Does everything taste alright?” she asked sweetly. “You’re not eating the food that I worked so hard over.” She bit her bottom lip and angled herself so that her boobs were in direct line of his sight if he looked down at all. 

Loki cleared his throat and forced his eyes to her face. The god of mischief gave her a dazzling smile that sent another zing towards her crotch. Did this guy have a hot line to her lady bits or something? “It tastes incredible. I don’t think I could have done a better job myself.”

Darcy returned the smile and threw her head back in her best 40’s pinup laugh, exposing a long line of skin from her chin to her chest. She felt his eyes trace the path, and if they’d been in a bar she was pretty sure he would have bought her a drink by now. “You’re too kind,” she said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “No wonder your nickname is Silvertongue.” 

“That’s not the only reason,” he said calmly and turned back to his meal. 

Darcy’s mind reeled for a second at the implications of that sentence. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks. Was she ever gonna stop blushing? Probably not if they kept this up. “I’m not surprised though I have found that smooth talkers often tend to be compensating for certain deficiencies.” 

He gave her an arch look and setting down his knife and fork, laced his long fingers together underneath his chin. “I would be more than happy to give you a personal demonstration and assuage any fears you might have of my deficiencies.” 

She snorted at his overly serious expression. He looked like a freaking bond villain. “Nah, dude, I think I’ll pass. This might have worked on those girls in other galaxies, but not here. I’ve already got something that takes care of that.”

Anger flashed across his face before he carefully schooled his features into bored disdain. “You’re loss,” he replied with a shrug.

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

Loki did not speak to her for the rest of the dinner and spared her cleavage only disinterested looks when it came into his field of vision. He continued to exchange snarky comments with Thor, most of which consisted of some variant of “oaf” or “buffoon”. Darcy feared she had gone too far during their last exchange but quickly stopped herself. 

I have nothing to be sorry for, she thought firmly, he was being a creep as usual. He deserved to be taken down a notch. She pointedly ignored the fact that she had in no way tried to hide the fact that she was shoving her tits in his face. Nor did she acknowledge the thoughts that his remarks had put in her head, and she certainly did not recall the effect they’d had on her body. Nope. Not. At. All. 

For the rest of the dinner, Darcy talked to Vizion and Wanda, who were quite chummy now apparently. She fought down the pang of envy she felt when the witch planted a kiss on Vision’s now human cheek. She distracted herself by draining the last of her water and saying, “Hey, Tony! When are you gonna stop being a Grinch and break out that wine I know you keep in your office?”

Ironman turned his head sharply at her, eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that? Have you been fucking with my security system again?”

She gave an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe if you give us some wine I might let something slip.”

Other voices rose in support, Thor’s loud bellow distinctive as always. 

“You don’t really deserve it but alright,” Tony relented at last and issued a command to Friday. Within moments, a small robot carrying a portable wine cellar rolled into the room, whirring happily. “You better tell me your secrets, Lewis, or you’ll be drinking nothing but boxed wine.” 

“I’ve had worse,” she shot back and grabbed the first bottle in reach. She had no idea what it was except red, French, and expensive as hell. That was good enough for her. If alcohol didn’t clear her head of Snape, she didn’t know what would. 

***

Loki had endured a good deal of pain and torture in his lifetime (most of it self-inflicted), but his current predicament was a certain exquisite kind of Hel that the Norns had cooked up for him. He was certain Odin was having a wonderful time watching this from wherever the hell his spirit resided. 

Tony Stark had broken out the wine, and no one had refused. Loki himself had taken a glass and sipped on it slowly, nursing it as he observed those around him. The conversations had gotten louder and more boisterous, and his brother had become more obnoxious. Something he had not thought possible, but Thor was full of surprises. 

Then, of course, there was Darcy-ever a thorn in his side of late. She was on her second glass, face flushed and eyes dreamy, and the temptation to seal her mouth with his was incredibly strong. Still, he did not think he could accomplish it without the mistletoe. 

When the girl was suitably distracted by Wanda, Loki leaned over to his brother and whispered, “How are you and Jane?” 

Thor’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he spared a look for the slim scientist at the end of the table. Loki saw a flash of sadness in his remaining eye, quickly masked by a broad smile. “We are civil, brother. I did not expect much else. You know how the situation is.” 

“I do I just thought. . .” he shrugged and left his words dangling in the air.

“Thought what?” his brother asked and leaned forward. At least, he had learned some discretion.

“Thought perhaps you might make amends. Is this not a time for Midgardian bonding and forgiveness? I’ve heard of a strange ritual involving a plant and kissing. It starts with an “m”, I believe. It might be of use to you.” Loki took a sip of wine to emphasize his complete and utter lack of personal interest in the subject. 

“Mistletoe?” Thor asked. “I have heard of it, but there is none here. Besides, I think the rift between Jane and I too deep to be bridged with such a simple thing.” Thor drank deeply and finished off his glass with a sigh. He refilled from the near empty bottle and promptly smashed it on the floor. 

“Careful there, Point Break,” Tony Stark said as a robot came to whisk away the shards of glass. “You break my floor, I bleach your cape.” 

His brother at least had the dignity to look sheepish and mumble an apology. Not that that would stop him from doing it again. 

Loki turned his attention back to the problem at hand. There was apparently no Mistletoe on the premises according to his brother, and he himself had done a perfunctory scan of the area and identified no plant life but the massive evergreen that dominated the center of the room. That meant he would have to make it himself. An easy task given his talents with seidr. 

As the drinking and revelry continued, the group slowly disbanded from the dining table to sprawl across the couches and chairs scattered around the huge living area at the top of the Tower. Darcy was currently seated on a red leather sofa with Steve Rogers, her face alight with interest as he recounted some old war story from nearly a century ago. Loki sneered in disgust. 

Perhaps the girl wasn’t even worth the trouble if she was so easily amused, but he could not find it in himself to give up on the quest. She had rebuffed him again and taken up with the human equivalent of tapioca pudding. Loki could not let such a slight stand. He would create the mistletoe, get his kiss, and rein as the victor in their little game. Then, he would discard her, and she would be free to pursue the next witless wonder that came her way.

He wandered over to the Christmas tree and snipped off the end of one branch with a small dagger. Slipping it into his pocket, he wrapped his fingers around it and began to weave the strands of a transmutation spell. Muttering the words under his breath, he tightened the ropes of magic and knotted them. There was a brief sensation of warmth, and then, surprisingly pain. He gasped and withdrew his hand to find his palm full of sharp spines. 

“By the-” he sputtered as a small cactus fell from his pocket onto the floor. He stared at the small potted plant in disbelief as his fingers plucked the spikes out and dropped them onto the floor. With any luck, Captain America might step on one. His seidr had never done that before. Perhaps it was because he did not know what mistletoe actually looked like. 

Still, it might work, he thought as he gingerly picked up the cactus. The intention was still there behind the spell. Sometimes that was enough. Now, he only had to corner Darcy to find out. 

It took a good deal of waiting and skulking in the shadows before Loki saw an opportunity. Darcy now more than a little tipsy was weaving her way across the room for yet more wine. Loki almost admired her for how well she held her alcohol. 

Slinking out of the shadows, he fell in-step beside her. “Enjoying the party, Miss Lewis?” he chimed.

“I’m about to enjoy it even more,” she said with a silly smile as she twirled the stem of the glass between her fingers. “What about you, Snape?” 

“It is . . . entertaining to say the least,” he replied as he spotted his brother challenging Steve Rogers to an arm wrestling contest. That wasn’t going to end well. 

“I guess Midgard is good for something after all,” she quipped and nudged him in the side with an elbow. 

“Yes, I have looked into studying some of your customs, and they are quite fascinating. I know that gift giving is a tradition for this particular holiday. I thought it only proper to honor them since Midgard has been so hospitable towards us.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a slim red envelope.

Darcy’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses. Hesitantly, she plucked it from his fingers and held it up to the light. “This isn’t anthrax or something is it? I’m not going to die of some rare disease or get turned into a hamster am I?” 

“I’m hurt you would even think such a thing,” Loki said as he reached to take the gift back.

“I’m sure you’re just devastated,” Darcy said as she danced out of reach and ripped it open. Out fell a piece of paper. Her eyes scanned over it briefly widening before she gave a crude bark of laughter. “Private cooking lessons, of course.” She shook her head. “Well, I suppose it’s better than cooking with you.”

This time the words did sting, surprisingly so. “I believe your attitude last night was quite different,” he drawled as he recalled the kiss she had placed on his lips. Now, if only he could get her to repeat the act with more enthusiasm. 

“Temporary insanity,” she said, “desperate times call for desperate measures. So how much did these cost ya? Last time I checked famous personal chefs don’t accept Asgardian gold.’ 

“Don’t worry about the cost. Mr. Stark is footing the bill. He just doesn’t know it yet.” Loki allowed himself a smirk. 

“You do know that is a crime, right?”

He looked down at her. “I don’t if you’ve realized this yet, but I don’t put a great deal of stock in your Midgardian laws or anyone’s laws really.” He snatched the wine glass from her hand and drained the dregs.

Darcy only gave a dry laugh as he handed it back to her. “I would say it’s the thought that counts, but I don’t care much for the thought behind it. Sorry, I’ve got nothing to give you but my rapier sharp wit.” She gave an exaggerated wink. “And why are you holding a cactus?” 

“Oh, this is-just-I found it. Yes, I found it over there. Mr. Stark does decorate his house quite strangely I must say,” Loki said hastily as he tossed the plant away. He stuffed his hands down into his pockets and rocked on his heels. Well that was an utter failure.

Darcy adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, he’s not the only weird one around here, Lurch. I think I’m going to need more wine now. Thanks for the back-handed compliment of a gift.” With that, she sauntered off a little more steadily on her heels than before with Loki cursing under his breath as he watched her hips sway.

The god of mischief was contemplating what his next strategy should be when he felt a heavy hand clap on his shoulder. It felt oddly metallic. He turned and saw Tony Stark staring at him. 

“You. Me. Talk. Now.” Ironman said as he directed the Asgardian to a secluded corner of the room. The shorter man was dressed normally in a ratty band t-shirt and oily jeans, but his right hand was clad in part of the metal suit he wore into battle. 

Loki allowed himself to be steered out of sheer curiosity. What could this small man possibly have to say him? He’d kept his nose relatively clean since they had arrived on Midgard. He hadn’t even stabbed Thor recently despite numerous tempting opportunities 

“How may I help you?” 

“Cut the shit.” Tony sniffed. “I know what you’re up to.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Loki said, and he could say that honestly for once. 

Stark took a step closer, jabbing a metal finger into the center of Loki’s chest. “I’ve seen you eying her all night. Don’t think I don’t know that the seating thing was intentional. It was pathetically obvious.”

“I am failing to understand your need to interject your opinions on my dealings with Miss Lewis seeing as how you are not her father nor her lover though I could be wrong on that last,” Loki hissed, challenge in his voice. 

A muscle twitched in Tony’s jaw, and he gave a hard push that sent the mischievous god flying into the wall behind him. Loki let a laugh escape his throat as he dusted himself off and got to his feet. “Not quite the same punch as your friend, I’m afraid, but you’re improving.” 

“Darcy’s my employee and more importantly my friend, which means any dealings with an asshole like you is my business. If you hurt her or even think about hurting her you’ll wish your batshit sister had finished you off.” 

“I assure you I have no intentions of harming her,” he said, and surprisingly again found himself being honest. What was coming over him? Perhaps the strange climate on Midgard was making him ill. 

“Yeah, well, you know what they say about the road to hell,” Stark answered darkly, never taking his eyes off the Asgardian.

“I actually don’t,” Loki said and spread his hands in a helpless gesture. 

Tony rolled his eyes before leveling another glare. “Either way, you get the point. You break her heart, scare her, creep out, and I’ll have Banner launch you into space like my own personal satellite. Am I making myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Loki bit out between gritted teeth. The thought of that Beast raised his hackles. Being confined on a ship with him in the vacuum of space for three months hadn’t helped.

“Good talk,” Tony said before walking off and heading back to Pepper.

“Excellent,” Loki said under his breath as he straightened his jacket and tried to recover his composure. He would not let Stark’s idle threats deter him. He would get the mistletoe one way or another. If perhaps he could get a picture of one it might help him conjure it correctly. That might require the working of the Internet, which last time Loki had tried simply resulted in a small fire. 

His eyes searched for Darcy but could not find her. He felt his heart rate increase until he spotted Steve Rogers discussing the pros and cons of various types of guns with the Black Widow. At least, the girl wasn’t as foolish as he had originally thought. This night might be salvageable after all if he could just get his hands on that damned plant.  
Another hour passed as Loki tried to piece together another plan. He had scoured the premises thoroughly for anything that might be the mystical mistletoe but found nothing. He had tried another transmutation spell on a branch of the Christmas tree but had only managed a Venus Flytrap. 

By now, the alcohol was truly flowing, and Thor had somehow gotten hold of Asgardian Golden Mead. Currently, his imbecile of a brother was wearing a lampshade on his head and dancing to a song called “Lowrider” on the coffee table. Everyone else was drunk enough to find this hilarious. Even Natasha Romanov was tipsy enough to crack a smile at his antics. That alone was enough to convince Loki the world was coming to an end. 

There was still no sign of Darcy when he felt the couch cushion next to him dip under an expected weight. Loki glanced over and saw Valkyrie sprawled out next to him, chugging from a bottle of bourbon. Besides him, she alone seemed sober despite the fact that she had probably drank more than all of them combined. 

“Surprised you haven’t tried to kill anyone yet,” she said as she took another swig. 

“So am I,” he replied as he suppressed a groan as Thor attempted to pirouette. How had anyone ever thought them related by blood? How? 

“Your brother is having a good time,” she observed and chuckled as the big lout landed on his backside with a thunderous laugh.

“One of his many talents. My brother always did know how to celebrate no matter what the circumstances.” He averted his attention from the idiotic god of thunder and did another sweep of the room. Still no Darcy.

“You looking for someone in particular?” Valkyrie said as she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her thighs. She chunked the now empty bottle 

“No, what made you think that?” he said absent-mindedly as he settled back against the couch.

“You really think we’re all that dense, don’t you? You’re so used to seeing through people that you don’t realize when they can see through you.” She gave a bitter laugh and slapped him hard on the thigh. 

“There’s nothing to see through. I am being perfectly transparent. I am looking for no one, and no one is looking for me,” he said softly, suddenly wishing he was as obliviously drunk as his brother. 

“So that’s the problem,” she said knowingly. “You know when I see a pretty girl I like, I go for her. No games. No riddles. Just get straight to the point. You should try it, you mind it enjoy it over the mindfuck you usually try to pull. You might even get laid though I doubt it would improve her mood I’m sure it would improve yours.” She swiped a half empty beer bottle from the nearby end table and took a sip. 

“I promise you no man or woman has ever walked away from my bed unsatisfied. I maybe a selfish prick in most cases, but not in that. Besides, I don’t think the direct approach would be appreciated.” He wiped his palms on his pants and drummed the fingers of his left hand against his knee. He was starting to get jittery. He didn’t like discussing personal matters with others, much less with Valkyrie. 

The woman shot him a skeptical look at his statement but shrugged and drained the bottle. After a moment, she dug around in the pocket of her leather pants and pulled something out. “Merry Christmas or whatever the hell it is they say here.” She deposited a handful of bent leaves, broken twigs, and smushed white berries into his hand.

“Is this?” he asked, not daring to hope. 

“Sure is,” she mumbled as she reclined her head back against the couch cushion and shaded her eyes. 

“Why? How?” he asked in disbelief.

“Because your moping makes me want to puke. I found it hanging it from a doorway and snatched it before anyone got any bright ideas, and I had to put them through a wall. Now go find your girl and leave me the hell alone. Last time I saw her she was in the study to the left.” Valkyrie slid down the couch and gave a contented sigh.

Loki stood quickly and stared down at the messy pile of foliage in his palm. Triumph rolled through him at the sight of it. He would not be defeated tonight after all. He would win the game, and then perhaps he could find some peace from her. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, but Valkyrie only gave an irritated wave in acknowledgment. 

Loki zipped through the room, not bothering to hide his direction or intention. They were all so inebriated no one would remember or care that he was making a straight line to Darcy. Tony and Pepper had retired some time ago. Dr. Banner was passed out in a chair. Jane and Erik were obsessively drawing figures on a whiteboard. Somehow Dr. Selvig had been divested of his trousers though he seemed at ease with that. Thor had turned on the television and had amused himself with a child’s cartoon while Natasha methodically sharpened and checked her weapons beside him. Sam, Rhodey, and Happy were attempting to play pool.

The study was a small room off to the side, cozy and lined floor to ceiling with books of fiction. It was a welcome reprieve from the floors and floors of glass and chrome and every high tech gadget imaginable. He was pleased to learn that this was where Darcy had retreated for it was the same place he would have chosen.

Unfortunately for Loki, the girl in question was passed out cold in a huge armchair with a book draped over her stomach. Darcy’s bare feet hung off one arm of the chair with her head pillowed on the other. Her glasses were skewed on her face, her curls were a tangled mess, and her red lipstick was smeared. 

He considered waking her but thought better of it. She looked so innocent, something he hadn’t even thought she was capable of. He reached out gently and brushed a curl back from her face that was fluttering from the passage of her breath. He could tell from the wine bottle resting on the floor that her hangover tomorrow would not be pleasant. She would want to wake up in her own bed. 

With a sigh, the trickster carefully lifted the book from her loose hands and set it back on the shelf. Then, he eased one arm under her knees, and the other under the middle of her back. It took no effort to lift her as small as she was. Somehow, she seemed much larger when she was awake as if the force of her spirit made up for her lack in stature. She fit so neatly in his arms that it felt to him for one ridiculous moment that that’s what they were made to do.

Darcy murmured sleepily in protest at the sudden shift but quieted quickly when she tucked her head against his shoulder. Loki took the opportunity to study her face in repose. Her glasses still hung crookedly from her ears and her lips were parted in sleep. He wanted to etch this moment into memory though he couldn’t say why. Perhaps Midgard’s atmosphere was turning his mind to mush or perhaps the gravitational pull of the planet was producing a ripple anomaly in his aura. Or perhaps. . . No, it would not do to think on that other possibility. For it was the most dangerous of them all. 

He thought longingly of the crushed mistletoe in his pocket and the kiss he was owed. His experiment had been for nought for now he might never know if mistletoe did indeed possess magical properties. It might have been quite informative for his future studies on how the earth affected his seidr. 

The night doesn’t have to be a complete waste. You can still have some small measure of victory, he thought to himself as his eyes roamed over the soft angles of her face. He pressed his lips to her brow and let them linger there for a moment. Darcy made a contented noise and snuggled closer to him. His heart gave a painful thump as it restarted in his chest. 

“I suppose that will have to do for now,” he said against the top of her head, “don’t think you’ve won this war. This is one battle. Now come, let’s get you to bed before you start drooling on me.” With that, he turned and headed for the elevator that would take him to the floor her room was on. As he walked with her cradled in his arms, he prayed to the Elder Gods for strength. This girl might very well be his undoing.


	3. Fireworks and Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re welcome” was all it said, written in a neat elegant hand in dark green ink. There wasn’t even a name or initials at the bottom to identify the writer. Then again, that wasn’t really necessary. Darcy knew exactly who had done this, which meant Darcy knew exactly who had helped her into bed. He had even gone to the trouble of taking off her shoes and jewelry. 
> 
> “Fuck,” she hissed and flopped back onto her pillow. How had he even known Glacier Freeze was her favorite flavor? She was never going to live this down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! This is the final chapter, and I'm sorry it's a little late. Thank you for all of your support and kindness! It means so much to me. I hope you enjoy the conclusion as much as I enjoyed writing. Let me know what you thought!

Darcy Lewis awoke the next morning feeling like she had been repeatedly run over by a dump truck and then buried in a landfill. Her head was pounding, her a mouth a veritable a desert, her stomach heaving, and her limbs as leaden and stiff as if they were made of wood. She cracked one-eye open and hissed as a ray of sunlight pierced the blinds and sent lancing pain through her skull. 

“Friday?” she croaked.

“Yes, Miss Lewis,” the AI program responded.

“Shut the blinds and cue the low lights,” she commanded, throwing a hand over her eyes.

“Of course, Miss Lewis,” the chipper Irish voice responded as the blinds locked themselves into place and the overhead lights filled the room with a soft yellow glow.

“Thanks,” Darcy mumbled, “and could you command one of those little bot thingies to bring me some painkillers and a Gatorade?” She knew they had a proper term Tony was always griping at her to use, but she could not have given less of a fuck if her life depended on it at the moment. 

“Actually, they are already placed on the nightstand to your right,” Friday said, voice sounding vaguely amused. It always amazed Darcy how Tony’s programs managed to develop personalities. 

“Huh?” was all she could respond as she threw her arm out and felt her palm hit the cool surface of a plastic bottle. She groped blindly before she dragged her body half away across the bed to squint at the bright blue liquid. “Thank you sweet baby Jesus,” she exclaimed as she grabbed it, twisted off the lid, and started to chug. 

Darcy was a quarter of the way through the bottle before stopping to take a breath and pop three extra strength Advil. Then, she drank a bit more before collapsing back onto the mattress, a hand pressed to her swimming head. 

“Never again,” she groaned, knowing all too well she would probably repeat the act in a little less than a week’s time. “God, Friday, you’re a real lifesaver.”

“It was not me, Mis Lewis. The items were placed there last night.” Again, the amusement but not so subtle this time. If computer programs could have facial expressions Darcy knew Friday would be wearing a shit-eating grin. 

Darcy’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Come to think of it, she had no idea how she had gotten back to her own bed. The last thing she recalled was drifting off while trying and failing to read Jane Eyre. Then again, she had managed to do stranger things while blackout drunk. Once, she had woken up on a toilet while humming “God Save the Queen”. 

“Who?” Darcy asked, sitting back and rolling towards the nightstand. 

“I have been requested not to disclose that information, Miss Lewis.” That too controlled tone told Darcy it wasn’t just the request that was causing Friday to hold her metaphorical tongue. 

She made a noise of disgust. “We’re going to have to fix that bug in your programming.” 

This time Darcy was alert enough to notice the small folded piece of paper that must have been tucked underneath the bottle of Advil. She took the crisp thick paper and unfolded it.

“You’re welcome” was all it said, written in a neat elegant hand in dark green ink. There wasn’t even a name or initials at the bottom to identify the writer. Then again, that wasn’t really necessary. Darcy knew exactly who had done this, which meant Darcy knew exactly who had helped her into bed. He had even gone to the trouble of taking off her shoes and jewelry. 

“Fuck,” she hissed and flopped back onto her pillow. How had he even known Glacier Freeze was her favorite flavor? She was never going to live this down.

****

The next week was like holiday Limbo for Darcy. She was technically not off from work as Jane’s lab assistant (she’s never really off as Jane’s lab assistant since Jane never stopped working), but no one really had the heart to go full tilt like usual.

So for the most part, Darcy spent her time sitting on a stool in the lab stumbling into the strange parts of Youtube and eating Cheetos. It wasn’t the most productive way to spend her time she knew, but it was about all her mind could manage to focus on lately. After all, who cared about grad school applications or studying for the GRE when the world might end in like three months? There were other things occupying her mind too that could only be distracted by cute cat videos and weird documentaries about people who didn’t cut their toenails. 

She has tried her best to avoid Loki as much as possible, but she just couldn’t seem to shake the dude. She found him in the kitchen the day after Christmas when her stomach felt settled enough for coffee. She had showered and still looked like hell but felt something approaching human again. 

He had been there leaning against the counter, holding a steaming cup of tea, and smirked at her in the way that she was pretty sure he knew infuriated her. 

“Glad to see you survived,” he’d said and taken a sip. 

Darcy had grunted, grabbed her coffee and scrambled out of there as fast as she could, her mind still too sluggish for a battle of wits. 

The next time she had been walking down the hallway, engrossed in sending a snarky text message to Tony concerning the Star Wars prequels, when she had suddenly walked into a wall. A warm, solid wall that was impeccably dressed in a black suit. 

“Watch where you’re going,” she’d grumbled and tried to dodge around him. 

Loki had blocked her deftly, raised an eyebrow, and said, “I assure you I was.”

“Don’t you have some children to be terrifying or a village to burn down?” she’d spat and tried to duck under his arm as she had in the kitchen what felt like a century ago. 

He’d held out an arm in front of her waist. “A simple thank you would suffice, or would you have preferred to spend the morning after Christmas dehydrated with a splitting headache?” 

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” she’d responded, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a step back. 

“I know.” He adopted the same stance was, cocking one leg out to the side to make sure she didn’t try to make a run for it. 

“So why did you do it? What do you want from me? Everyone knows you work on an agenda. Everything you do has some ulterior motive behind it. I just have no idea what it could be. I’m a broke lab assistant who has no access to any super secret info and no power or influence. The most I could do for you is make a mean cup of coffee since no one else can seem to manage it. Also, I’m really good at Uno.” 

Loki had studied her for a moment. She had practically seen the gears grinding away behind those green eyes of his. She had seen him think up and discard a thousand clever quips. 

“Because I wanted to,” he had said at last as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Why?” 

“Because it pleased me.”

“Why?” 

He gave an exasperated sigh. “Are you a toddler who must know the exact reasoning behind everything?” 

“No, I just don’t trust a man who wears the same outfit everyday and never washes his hair.” 

“Says the woman who wears a beanie and a hoodie everyday,” he hissed, throwing his hands in the air and flexing those long fingers of his. 

“Why are you always such an epic douche?” Darcy’d replied over the rim of her glasses, trying her best to intimidate him into letting her pass.

“Because you’re a horrid little shrew,” he’d spat back, face screwing up into a twin expression of her own. He’d even gone so far as to bend down to look her in the eyes. 

“I already told you,” she said through gritted, clutching her phone so tightly in her hands she was afraid the screen might crack, “because I don’t trust you and I want to know why you’ve been helping me.” 

“And I told you why, but you didn’t seem to like the answer. What do you want me to say?” The anger faded from his voice, going soft at the end. Darcy would have almost called it sincerity if it had been anyone but him. 

Then, she’d done something stupid and dangerous, which at this point, wasn’t that unusual for her. Darcy Lewis had looked Loki Odinson dead in the eyes. She had hoped to find something there in those green depths, a flicker of shadow to show he was lying or some shining truth. Darcy had thought him being a god and all would mean there would be something strange or mystical in them, but they were terribly, heartbreakingly human. 

“I don’t know,” she sighed and meant it. She didn’t know what she wanted to him to say because anything he said would be devastating. If he had said, “why yes, Darcy my dear, I have a positively dastardly plot involving you and the end of the world” while twirling a bad mustache, some delicate, tender thing in her would have been crushed. If he had gotten down on both of his knees and professed undying love and devotion to her, fear would have consumed her. Fear that such a man could genuinely care for her, and an even greater one that he could elicit the same feelings in her. 

Loki’s face had dropped into confusion, the ends of mouth curling down and his brows drawing together. Gracefully, he’d unfolded himself and sidestepped out of her path. Darcy had fled with her head down and her feet wanting to kick into a run. 

She was currently binge watching Maru trying to squeeze himself into progressively smaller and smaller boxes, a tried and true method of procrastination that had kept her sane during undergrad. 

“So has he finally found a box that he won’t try to fit into?” Jane said from the across the room as she looked up from a chart she was reading. 

“Nope,” Darcy answered as she stifled a laugh at the fat cat who looked thoroughly annoyed to find his bulk overflowing the boundaries of the box. 

“You know Darcy sometimes things aren’t always what they seem,” her boss said as she set the charts down and took a long sip of her coffee. 

Darcy looked up with one quirked eyebrow. “Okay? And water is wet.” 

“Actually, water isn’t wet because wet is in fact a verb and an adjective so water can’t technically be wet-”

The younger woman rolled her eyes and groaned. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry for bringing it up. We’ve had this discussion like fifty times already, and we weren’t even stoned. What was the point of your previous statement?”

Jane blinked slowly as she brought herself back to her original train of thought. Darcy suppressed a sigh. She loved her boss like a sister, but she could be kinda spacey at times. “Yes, well,” the scientist cleared her throat, “my point is that sometimes you can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Again, obvious.” Darcy made the rolling hurry-up motion with her hands. “Either get to the point or let me watch my cat videos in peace.” 

“Loki’s not horrible,” she said in a rush, hands clutching her coffee mug for dear life. 

“Welp, nice talkin’ to ya,” Darcy said with finality as she closed her laptop and hopped off the stool. She was slinging the messenger bag over her shoulder when Jane came jogging over. 

“Just hear me out?” Her boss pleaded as she reached out to Darcy.

“Here you can have the last of my Flamin’ Hot Cheetos if you just let me go.” She shoved the half empty bag at Jane and turned to leave.

“Technically, I’m your boss and you can’t go until I say so,” Jane said resolutely and moved in front of her assistant.

“I will physically pick you up and move you if I have to,” Darcy threatened.

“Then you won’t get paid for the hours,” Jane said.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” the astrophysicist said with a decisive nod of her chin and both fists planted on her hips.

“Did Thor put you up to this?” Darcy whined as she let her bag drop to the floor and snatched the Cheetos back. 

The older woman’s cheeks flushed and her eyes batted just a little too much to be believable. “Thor? Pftt, that’s crazy. I haven’t even spoken to him. I don’t care if we ever speak again. Ha ha ha.” Her laughter died off miserably at the end as Darcy gave her a deadpan look. 

“Gimme your schpiel and let’s get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible,” Darcy grumbled as she trudged back to the stool, dragging her bag behind her. 

Jane stood on the opposite side of the lab table, resting on her elbows. “Here’s the thing: I’m not doing this just because Thor called in a favor. I’m doing this for you,” she reached out and clasped Darcy’s hand in her own. “And even maybe, the teeniest, tiniest little bit for Loki.” 

“Continue,” Darcy said as she did her best to ignore Jane’s look of doe-eyed innocence. Damn, she was good. 

The scientist looked down momentarily as she collected her thoughts. “Loki’s done a lot of terrible stuff to a lot of people, but he’s not all bad. He saved me when the Aether was inside me, and he didn’t have to. He helped Thor plan the whole thing out.” Jane’s eyes went dark with memory. 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t erase the fact that he tried to kill his brother, blow up Pueblo Antiguo, destroy New York, enslave all of humanity, and disguised himself as his father in order to rule Asgard.” Darcy ticked off each thing on the hand Jane wasn’t holding for dear life. She ignored the part of her mind that noted the fact that he had returned for his people and brother at the expense of his own safety and had helped her avoid complete and utter humiliation at Christmas dinner. Cognitive dissonance was something she excelled at. She hadn’t been a poli sci major for nothing.

“No, it doesn’t, but believe me when I say Odin was no saint himself.” Jane frowned at the mention of the old Asgardian.

“There’s still the whole New York thing and trying to enslave humanity,” Darcy offered.

“You’re right,” her boss said compromisingly, “but I have my own theory about that.” 

“Fire away,” she said and rested her cheek against her free hand.

“Loki had the Mind Infinity Stone that allowed him to control others, but I think it exerted some control on him as well.”

“Okay, we’re done here,” Darcy declared as she tried once more to pull her hand free from Jane’s death grip.

The small scientist held on with surprising tenacity. “No just listen to me, Darce, please.” Again the goddamn doe-eyes. 

“Fine,” Darcy sighed.

Jane gave a bright smile before turning serious again. “Thor used to talk about how Loki looked during that whole time. He looked . . . sickly, he’d said.” The petite brunette shook her head. “It also never really made sense that Thanos would just give Loki that much power without some kind of guarantee. He’s not he most reliable ally after all. Why would someone supposedly as powerful and intelligent as Thanos give over one of the Infinity Stones to a fickle god of mischief without some kind of safety net?” 

“So what are you saying exactly? Thanos was mind controlling him or what?” Darcy’s mind was a hive of fevered confusion at the moment. She had seen those clips of Loki at Stuttgart and glimpses of him in New York. He had been terrifying. It was hard to reconcile that that was the same guy who’d shown her how to properly knead dough. 

“Kind of. I think it’s like alcohol in a way. He doesn’t make you do anything that isn’t already there, but he lowers your defenses enough to allow the worst of someone to come out. He inhibits your frontal cortex enough to allow you to make all of the dumb decisions you wouldn’t otherwise,” Jane said as she released Darcy’s hand and gave a weak shrug. 

“What he did was waay worse than drunk texting an ex.” Darcy wrapped her arms around herself and turned her head to the side, refusing to look at her boss. 

“I know,” she answered softly, “but I can only tell you what I’ve observed and experienced myself. We all know Thanos is serious bad news, and Loki wasn’t always from the way Thor talks.” 

“Maybe Thor was blinded to it,” Darcy said in a thick voice. She thought back to the moments when his hands had encompassed hers. Hands that had killed. Hands that had made her feel safe and wanted. 

Another shrug from Jane. “That is a strong possibility, but I do know I owe him my life. I know that he helped save Thor and the other Asgardians from certain death. I know that I don’t want you to pass up on something that you want because you’re afraid of how you feel. You deserve to be happy, Darce.” She felt slim fingers guide her chin to look at Jane who was staring at her with a sad smile. 

Darcy swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Well, thanks for the advice, Boss,” she said light heartedly. “I’ll take that into consideration.” Then, she slung her pack over her shoulder again and fled for the second time that week. 

***

Loki discovered that New Year’s Eve was a strange time with strange customs. The booze flowed much as it had during Christmas, but this time it was a bubbly yellow wine called champagne. He found he quite liked the taste of it, especially after learning how much it cost Tony Stark per bottle. After finding that out, Loki had snatched three bottles and set about drinking himself into oblivity. He would not have a repeat of Christmas Eve. If he was to spend this evening alone, he didn’t want to recall it. 

He had tried and failed twice within the week to confront Darcy. The second time had ended in a disastrous retreat on both their ends. He could still recall perfectly the feeling of her eyes boring into his as she said the words “I don’t know.” Who the fuck didn’t know what they wanted another person to say? Apparently, Darcy fucking Lewis.

He downed another glass of champagne as the Avengers set about single-mindedly depleting Mr. Stark’s stores of alcohol. Even Dr. Banner was partaking in his own reserved fashion, nursing a flute of champagne for the past hour and a half. Tony and Pepper were slow dancing to “It’s the End of the World” along with Wanda and Vision. Gods, Loki hated couples. The only thing he hated more was the way his brother was mooning over Jane Foster. 

“You look pathetic,” he said to the only other Asgardian present, finally feeling a buzz after two and a half bottles in. He figured he would have to swipe another five bottles at least if he wanted to get blackout drunk. 

Thor looked over his shoulder at his younger brother, a smile playing at his lips. “Do you truly think so?” 

“Yes,” he said venomously. “It’s over. Be done with it and move on.” He took another sip of champagne. Where was Valkyrie when he needed her? She was at least amusing.

The god of thunder turned his attention from Jane to Loki and took a seat heavily beside him. “Are you speaking from personal experience, Brother?” Thor took a slow sip of beer.

If looks could kill, Loki would have murdered Thor three times over by now. “Of course not, you oaf. I just can’t stand watching you humiliate yourself anymore.” 

“I was about to say the same for you about Darcy,” Thor said casually before he took another long swig of his Guinness. 

Loki gave a bark of laughter, sharp and cruel. “What could I possibly want from that mortal peasant?” 

His brother gave a shrug of his muscular shoulders. “I cannot say. Your mind is impossible to read at times, Loki. I only know that you watch her when you think no one is looking, and you go out of your way to put yourself in her path. In any other man, I would say those are signs of affection.” 

“And if they were?” Loki hedged cautiously, keeping his eyes lowered to his glass. He would be damned if his brother got the best of him again. 

Thor leaned back against the leather couch and thought for a moment. “Then, I would say seize it with both hands. Life and happiness are not things we are guaranteed, especially now in such times as we are living. Take what you love and hold fast to it. You never know when ill fortune might strike and you lose it.”

Loki nodded in appreciation. “You almost sound like Mother.” 

“Thank you,” his brother said gently as he spun his beer bottle between his fingers, “I would also say that when last I spotted Miss Darcy she was heading for the roof by herself.” 

Loki paused in consideration for a moment. He watched the bubbles rise to the surface and burst in his glass. What did he really have better to do? Yes, there was the awkward courtship between Banner and Romanoff going, but that had grown stale after the first three hours of longing stares. Sam had gone downtown to look for romance, and Rhodey was currently sniffling in a corner as he left a fourth drunken voicemail to his ex. Even Captain America seemed forlorn as he stared at the window into some distant memory Loki couldn’t even begin to guess at. 

That left only Thor who was even now was watching Jane as she shuffled hesitantly to the music. The Norns save him. There really was no choice, was there? “If you’ll excuse me, Brother,” he said as he clapped his hand on Thor’s shoulder.

The god of thunder gave him a knowing smile that made Loki want to punch him in his stupidly cheerful face. “Behave yourself, Loki. Miss Darcy is a respectable and comely young lady.”

Loki gave a laugh. “Respectable, you say? The girl curses and drinks like a sailor. Hela must have truly addled your wits.” He purposefully ignored the comment on her appearance. He knew bait when he heard it. 

His older brother frowned. “Those traits do not make her any less worthy of your respect!” he called out as Loki set his drink down, got up from the couch, and headed for the elevator.

The trickster rolled his eyes as he pressed the “up” button for the elevator. Thor was right they didn’t make her any less worthy of respect, but they certainly made her far more entertaining than this depressing lot. Norns, why was every superhero a basketcase? Not that he had any room to talk, but still. Insanity was part of the supervillain package.

The doors dinged open, and he stepped inside. 

“Where to?” a pleasant female voice.

“The roof,” Loki commanded with his hands folded behind his back.

“Of course, Reindeer Games,” the AI program replied as the elevator moved up three floors.

Loki sneered as the door opened and let him out onto his destination. The air was chilly but clear. Loki could hear the murmur of the millions of people crowded into Times Square below as they counted down the last twenty minutes to the Midgardian New Year. 

His eyes fell to her form as if drawn by a magnet. Darcy was leaning against the railing and looking down on the sea of people below. Loki could see her long brown hair falling about her face like a curtain. He stepped out of the elevator and strode towards her reluctantly, torn between his hurt pride and desire to be in her presence.

Her eyes remained firmly locked on the crowd below.

“Happy New Year,” she stated quietly as Loki rested his hands on the rail beside her.

“Happy New Year,” he echoed formally, eyes surveying the mass of people below him dispassionately. 

“What are your New Year’s resolutions?” she asked. “Any new plans for world domination?”

“Not so far,” he said and concentrated on keeping his eyes away from her. “I found ruling not to my taste, and Midgard is far too messy.” 

Darcy gave a chuckle and shivered against the cold night air. “Too bad you didn’t figure that out five years ago, Snape.”

“Quite,” he said, “though certain things were beyond my control at the time.” He dared to glance over to her. She was shivering despite the jacket she wore. 

“Thanos?” she asked simply, breath turning to smoke in the night air.

Loki nodded, recalling the pain and pressure that name conjured up. The old scars on his shoulders and back suddenly itched in remembrance. “Yes, he . . .suffice to say it wasn’t pleasant.” 

Darcy went silent for once. Loki watched as one wickedly high heel kicked up and touched the back of her thigh. He had never known someone could wish to be a shoe before. Midgard was proving to be an interesting experience if nothing else. She huddled in closer on herself.

Loki slid the cashmere top coat he wore off of his shoulders and held it out to her in his right hand. 

Darcy eyeballed him up and down as if it might be boobytrapped. “Are you sure you don’t need it? You’re pretty thin and pasty.” 

Loki bit the inside of his cheek against the retort that rose to mind. “I’m fine. The cold doesn’t really bother me.” 

“Thanks, Elsa,” Darcy said as she slipped the warm fabric on and wrapped it around herself.

He was disgusted at how pleased he was to see her wearing it. When had he become such a sentimental fool?

“I still don’t understand most of the references you make,” Loki stated as he resettled his arms on the iron railing. In truth, he barely felt the below freezing temperature. Being a Frost Giant did have some advantages. 

“That’s part of my charm, Lokster,” she said cheekily as she buttoned up the front and pressed into his side. 

“I suppose every planet has its definition of charm. Some more strange than others.” 

“Hey, I’ll have you know I was considered very charming at undergrad. I could smooth talk my way into any frat party.” 

“What a true feat of diplomatic art,” he drawled

She gave him a bitter smile. “Diplomacy can only get you so far.” 

“A lesson I have learned all too well,” Loki said, suddenly wishing he had a drink to drown himself in. He could feel his fingers start to twitch with the urge to start fidgeting, a sure sign he was getting nervous.

“I wanted you to tell the truth that day,” Darcy said abruptly, looking at him intensely, eyes focused like twin blue lasers.

He looked down, not seeing the endless ocean of anonymous faces. “What is the truth?” He had never really contemplated the meaning of the word, only used it to twist things to his liking. “I meant what I said. I did those things because I wanted to and because they pleased me.” He dared not say more than that. Dared not pry himself open to a mortal woman who would only shun him.

“And what does that mean that it pleases you to help me?” Darcy asked in a hard voice as she turned towards him, her gaze unrelenting. 

He hazarded a glance and felt himself burning. He faced her, side pressed against the railing with an elbow resting over the edge and feet crossed at the ankles. “Do you want the answer or are you afraid?”

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed. “I want the answer.” She gave another smaller shiver, and he resisted the instinct to reach out and take her into his arms. What warmth could a Frost Giant offer against the cold? 

Loki clasped his hands together as he struggled to find the right words. Not for the first time, he wished he had Thor’s easy way when it came to expressing his emotions. “I am attracted to you.” He did not say powerfully or irrevocably as he wanted to. No need in frightening her. “It pleases me to please you.” He spread his hands out before himself simply.

“What a romantic,” Darcy scoffed as she turned from him, her profile cutting a sharp silhouette across the city night.

Loki huffed in frustration. How to make her see without appearing weak? It seemed nearly impossible. “I do not know what else to say. You should feel honored mortal. I have never said this to one of your kind before.” 

“Well, thank you, Princess,” she snarked. “I really appreciate you telling me you have the hots for little old me. I would hate to keep you from your next hair metal tour.” She started to angrily unbutton his coat.

“Keep it,” he said and pressed his hand into her shoulder. “I don’t need it. I didn’t mean to sound so . . . ..”

“Condescending? Rude? Tactless? Some Silvertongue,” she snorted and continued to shrug out of it. “I don’t want your jacket or your pity or whatever else it is you have to offer.” 

In an act of desperation, he grabbed the lapels of the top coat and hugged them around her. “Please,” he said, pain evident in his voice, “just allow me this one thing. I didn’t mean those things. Sometimes I just say things like that and. . .it’s a defense mechanism. When I talk to you words fail me in spectacular and disconcerting ways, and I turn into- ” His hands reached up to cup her face, thumbs caressing her cheekbones.

“A bumbling asshole?” she offered helpfully, an eyebrow raised above her glasses. 

He gave a weak laugh and shook his head. “I don’t know if I would put it so eloquently, but yes, a bumbling asshole is a fair assessment.” 

“Why can’t you just ask me out to coffee like a normal guy instead of beating around the bush and being a dick?” She breathed as she relaxed beneath his touch.

“Part of my charm,” he answered.

“Wow, you must have women lining up to be wooed by you,” Darcy said as she tilted her face up towards his.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Do you ever drop the sarcasm?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Good point.” 

He could feel the tension mounting in the air around them. One minute to midnight. 

“If what everyone says is true, and there really is some giant purple dude coming for us this might be my last New Year’s Eve.” Darcy licked her lips nervously. 

“It’s true,” Loki said, wishing he were lying, but Thanos was out there, and he was coming. There was nothing and no one who could stop him. The fear that normally accompanied that thought though seemed to belong in another lifetime to a different person. The world had condensed down to this moment on this rooftop in New York City. 

Thirty-five seconds to midnight.

“Then, I guess we should make the most of it, shouldn’t we?” She angled her chin slightly upward, lips parted.

“I’m not sure I quite understand,” he asked. What was it people did at midnight on New Year’s Eve? Thor had told him in some long prattling lecture on Midgardian culture, but Loki had started spacing out about three minutes into it as usual.

“Are you serious?” she complained. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

Ten seconds to Midnight.

Ah, yes. Now, he remembered, but the frustration coloring her cheeks was too delicious not to egg on. “I’m sorry. What is it you expect me to do?”

“Kiss me, you stupid space viking!” Darcy growled as the countdown continued. 

Loki didn’t hear anything after two because she pulled at the collar of his shirt and smashed her mouth against his. He exhaled sharply as his brain struggled to process what was happening. 

Finally, he sighed to himself and everything clicked into place. His hands fell from her face and traveled to her waist where he gripped her and drew her flush to his body. Darcy’s arms wound around his neck, and her mouth parted to him. 

The ball dropped, and the crowd erupted into cheers below though neither heard it. Fireworks whizzed and banged and popped and screeched overhead in a blinding array of sparks and color. The world celebrated, not knowing the impending doom headed towards it even at this moment. Despite all of this, Loki could only feel Darcy in his arms, taste her against his mouth, breathe in her clean heady scent, and hear her delighted sigh.

He had told Thor once that satisfaction was not in his nature. Perhaps, he had been wrong after all.


End file.
